


Without a Word

by suchanadorer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, No Dialogue, Prompt Fill, SRS 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt at SRS: Lucifer is doing everything he can to convince Sam to say "yes" without actually speaking.</p><p>This wound up being more about Lucifer trying to convince Sam that he's not evil, and that he wants to take care of Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without a Word

Sam can think it hurts like Hell because he doesn’t yet know what Hell looks like. He draws a shallow breath and pain shoots up his side. It’s been a long time since he broke a rib, and he’s not looking forward to the weeks of uncomfortable sleep that always follow.

It isn’t until the demon advancing towards him screams and collapses that he spares a thought to the protection etched into his ribs. The room fills with white light and Sam shields his eyes.

Lucifer is on one knee in front of him. Sam lowers his arm slowly. Fear fills him and pulls painfully at his chest. He tries to back away, but he’s trapped between the wall and the angel, who is looking at him with gentle concern.

Lucifer raises a finger to his lips, but it’s unnecessary. Sam is so frightened that he couldn’t make a sound if he tried. Is silence consent? Is this really how it’s going to happen, on the floor of a newly renovated split-level while his brother runs from room to room, looking for him?

Lucifer reaches for Sam. He lays his hand flat on Sam’s chest, and suddenly the pain is gone. Not just the rib, either; every little hurt that he’s accumulated over years of hunting is extinguished. Sam feels better than he has in years, except that he’s still terrified.

Lucifer looks him over and smiles softly. He pats Sam’s cheek and disappears just before Dean bursts into the room. The panic in Dean’s eyes lessens when he sees the dead demon and Sam sprawled out on the floor. He misinterprets the scene, but Sam doesn’t explain. He just accepts the offered hand, lets himself be pulled to his feet, and dusts off his jeans.

He wants to tell Dean what happened, but he’s not sure how, or when, so it doesn’t come up. He thinks Castiel can tell, on those occasions that he turns up. He stares at Sam long and hard, but Sam just lowers his eyes and looks away. So Lucifer fixed a broken rib. That should mean he’s protected again. No harm done.

Still, he can’t help but think that it shows on him somehow, that Lucifer has touched him, had healed him, and Sam hadn’t stopped him. He’s even more dirty and wrong than ever, and weak to boot, because he couldn’t find the courage to put up a fight.

It starts with small things, after that. Reports of demon activity that they follow up, only to find that the demons have cleared out. Life gets a little easier. They hunt other things in the meantime, but with an Apocalypse on, demons are their primary targets, and having them suddenly disappear seems like a blessing.

Except that it’s never that easy. Castiel watches Sam more closely, and Dean closes off, like always. Sam doesn’t know what they suspect, only that they do, and so he withdraws. Sam will tell them what he thinks is going on if they ask, but he won’t offer anything. This is a good thing, no matter how they came by it, and Dean’s paranoia will only ruin it.

It doesn’t click into place for Sam until one night when he’s alone in the hotel room. Castiel hasn’t been around, and Dean is out picking up dinner while Sam pokes at his laptop, trying to find out if there are any connections between the three recent deaths that brought them to the coast of Lake Ontario. He cut his arm up pretty badly on a broken window a couple days ago, and he flexes his fingers, feeling the pull of Dean’s uneven stitches.

When he hears the flutter of wings, he assumes it’s Castiel, so he doesn’t turn around. But there’s no gruff greeting that accompanies the shuffle of fabric as someone comes to stand behind him.

The hand that rests on his shoulder is too cold, and Sam panics. He tries to push up to stand, but the hand is firm, inhumanly strong where it holds him in the chair.  
Lucifer steps forward and swivels to face Sam at the same time. He wraps his fingers around Sam’s wrist and tuts when he sees the stitches. Lucifer half-sits on the edge of the table and lays Sam’s arm in his lap.

This time, Sam is bolder, but it does no good. When he tries to pull away Lucifer’s expression darkens and his grip tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but the message is clear. Sam is not going anywhere, so he glares back at Lucifer, open defiance on his face. This isn’t his idea.

The edges of the cut are red and itchy. The window had been filthy, and Dean’s regular medical treatment of bourbon-based disinfectant and clean bandages isn’t doing the trick this time. Lucifer’s fingers are wonderfully cool when he traces the stitches, and Sam huffs out a short breath at the relief that comes with the touch. 

The corner of Lucifer’s mouth quirks up, and Sam watches him while he examines his arm. He looks strangely innocent, blue eyes under blonde lashes that seem to drink in every available inch of Sam’s skin. A strange sense of calm comes over Sam as he waits for Lucifer’s next move. He is suddenly absolutely certain that he is safe here, in this room, with this angel.

Lucifer’s eyes flick up and he nods as if he can read Sam’s thoughts. He probably can, Sam thinks. The cut disappears, stitches and all, to leave nothing but a strip of undamaged skin along the inside of Sam’s arm.

This time when Sam pulls his hand away Lucifer lets go. Their palms and fingers brush, and something electric passes between them before contact is lost altogether. Lucifer glances back over his shoulder and stands, moving to the far corner of the room. He holds his finger to his lips again, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean opens the door with a kick, arms filled with bags of food and a six-pack of beer. Sam stands so quickly that he knocks his chair over, but Dean doesn’t notice the archangel in the corner. He bitches about the line, taking a cheap shot at Sam’s salad before flopping onto his own bed.

He can’t see Lucifer. He’s only visible to Sam. It’s an uncomfortable juggling act, going through the motions of the evening while Lucifer stands in the corner, taking it all in in silence. Sam rolls the sleeve of his shirt down to cover the obvious lack of a cut, and when Dean asks how it’s healing, Sam gives a perfunctory reply.

Lucifer stays all night. Sam knows this because he sleeps in short periods, tossing and turning, and every time he wakes up, Lucifer is there, watching him from the darkness.

For two whole days Lucifer follows Sam like a shadow, disappearing only once when Castiel comes to check on them. Nothing bad happens while Lucifer is there; in fact, Sam feels strangely protected. They do research and talk to witnesses, and Lucifer stands in doorways or perches on the edge of a desk. The night they spend stalking through the woods, Sam sees Lucifer out of the corner of his eye, and when the shifter jumps him from behind, Lucifer smites it before it can do more than wrap its arms around Sam’s neck.

Sam stumbles away, trembling but relieved. Lucifer smiles and Sam smiles back, grateful for the help and glad of Lucifer’s presence. He ducks his head in thanks as Dean comes crashing through the trees. Lucifer nods, and his eyes never leave Sam.

It takes those two days for Dean and Castiel to figure out that something is seriously wrong, and when they do they ambush him. Castiel pins him to the door of the hotel room and Dean wrestles up the sleeve of his jacket. The cut, of course, is gone, and when Castiel presses a hand to Sam’s chest he finds altered sigils. Lucifer has rewritten them so that he alone can find Sam.

The argument is bitter and heated, with accusations thrown from both sides. Castiel stands stoically and watches. He doesn’t say a word but there is disappointment on his face, and Sam is pained to see it. That is nothing, though, compared to the hurt and rage that is Dean’s entirety. Sam has betrayed him, again, by keeping this from him. He talks down to Sam like he always has, as if Sam is still a child incapable of protecting himself or making his own decisions. Punches are thrown, and when Castiel pulls Dean off his brother, Sam storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Lucifer is leaning against the door of the Impala, but when Sam comes out he pushes off and walks up to him. He looks Sam over, frowning and shaking his head. He takes Sam’s face in his hands, and Sam feels the bruises vanish. Dean’s ring had left a cut on his cheek, and that disappears, too.

Sam slumps, resting his head against Lucifer’s shoulder. He knows full well what’s going on. He is aware that he is being courted, that the end of this string of kindnesses is him saying yes and Lucifer possessing him. But he’s also sure he won’t, so why not accept what’s being offered? Lucifer has yet to ask anything of him, which is more than Dean or Castiel can say at this point.

Sam has no intention of consenting to anything tonight, but here, out in the chill, with a sense of peace flowing through him and a hand rubbing comforting circles on his back, he does admit to himself that Lucifer makes a convincing argument, and part of him thinks that it’s a shame. In another life, he would have been an excellent guardian angel.


End file.
